


as heavy as the snow falls (i fall for you)

by kiddofx



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Everyone is good and no one dies ok!, F/M, Peaceful Android Revolution (Detroit: Become Human), Reader-Insert, Slow Build, Slow Burn, Strangers to Lovers, This story mainly focuses on Connor
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-05
Updated: 2020-11-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 21:27:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,942
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27403498
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiddofx/pseuds/kiddofx
Summary: „Hello Detective. I am Connor, the Android sent by CyberLife.“The android sent to replace me, you think but it’s not what you say. Instead, you look up from your $1 instant noodles, and freeze.Oh god, you think. Oh god, fuck. They made it CUTE.
Relationships: Connor (Detroit: Become Human)/Reader
Comments: 8
Kudos: 62





	1. It's just another day to pretend (I’m feeling okay)

**Author's Note:**

> henlo humans,   
> I found this old draft on my computer and decided to actually work on it! This is barely proof-read so if you find any mistakes, you can let me know (or not). This kind of first-draft is like a year old so my writing has changed somewhat, maybe you'll notice in future chapters (if you stick around haha)  
> Note that I usually write in the Simple Present so the beginning of this text is more like an introduction. This work isn't completed yet, I will try my best to finish it soon so I can give regular updates.

Hank had warned you.

_“They sent one of those plastic pricks to help investigate that deviant shit”, he had told you._

You just thought he was messing with you, a good old joke to welcome you back. That was _until_ you were officially allowed to get back to work;

you had annoyed your doctor into releasing you from sick-leave and partly got what you wanted — except that you were stuck on desk-duty. _But_ that was better than being stuck at home. You never thought you’d be sick of your apartment walls but there you were.

After almost two and a half months, you finally walked back into the precinct.

Gavin was the first one to give _that face —_ an ugly smirk, splitting open his mouth and showing his teeth, like a warning, like a threat. He didn’t say anything — he didn’t have to. That smirk alone, creepy enough to give you goose bumps, told you everything you need to know.

 _Hank didn’t mess with you. They sent an Android to replace you in your_ ** _ **own**_** _investigation_.

“Glad to see you’re back”, Gavin greeted you, though, and you forced a smile at your desk-partner. “Were you getting bored without me?”, you asked and tried to forget the obnoxious smirk he had thrown at you just a second ago. “You know me, baby”, he laughed and slapped on your shoulder. He disappeared behind you and you were left unguarded without any distraction. Everybody was staring at you and you weren’t sure if those looks were painted in relief or pity.

Silently you sat down at your desk, towers of paper stacked everywhere, and started to work. A few of your colleagues stopped by, asking how you were doing, being shot multiple times and all, and that they were happy you were back safe and sound – they didn’t say anything about Hank, or the Android. Their _eyes_ , though, their eyes betrayed them.

Fowler called you in an hour later or so, asking how you do — not that he’d really care, anyway — before sending you back to work. He didn’t say a word about Hank, or the Android. His _eyes_ did.

Nothing has happened since.

Now, it’s almost one pm and desk duty is more boring that you anticipated — so boring, in fact, that you decide to take your break. Usually Gavin and you keep each other entertained and airdrop each other memes out of the nowhere but he’s nowhere to be seen. Also, you’re hungry as shit, as you skipped the breakfast this morning. Not only because you overslept but you’re also not really a breakfast person.

There is no sign of Hank or that infamous Android so you decide to shrug it off and bury your concerns under the $1 instant noodles you got stored in the lowest drawer of your desk; your emergency food and snack box, as you like to call it. Sometimes Gavin raids it when he feels like it _but_ he has kept his promise about not telling anyone about your emergency food and snack box — so far.

And while it’s generally not too bad to have him right in front of you most of the time, he’s the person you want to avoid the most because, honestly, you don’t need his mockery _and_ you are not in the mood to endure that stupid smirk one more time. There _is_ a possibility that you just try to punch it off his face.

He did leave the precinct when you entered it, so he’s probably off at some crime-scene.

You glance towards the empty Break Room and see your chance. You take one of the spicy chicken instant noodles, your all-time favorite, and speed as fast into the Break Room as your body allows you to; it’s still heavy sometimes and your movements are slowed by pain and stiffness.

Nobody disturbs you while you prepare the kettle and get a can of coke out of the fridge. The only sound remarkable to you is the news channel and by now the threat of a war outbreak has become too old to still be shocking.

You take your phone and skip through your messages, ignoring most of them except the ones from your mom to which you reply _yes mom, work is going great so far. I’m stuck at desk-duty until my doctor gives me the green light_ , before you switch to your social media.

Caught up in some memes, you only notice Hank when he’s standing right in front of you.

“Listen kid”, he says, shrugging. “I didn’t ask for this either.” His voice sounds grumpy and unhappy and he looks like he just got out of bed which wouldn’t be a surprise, actually, and he still reeks a bit of beer.

And with that said, he leaves you alone again and you stay behind, _slightly_ dumbfounded and just unnecessarily more confused than you already are. Why do they all behave like you’re already fired because some stupid robot took your cases?! Fuck them. As if there isn’t enough shit going on in Detroit. You could go back to work on the Red Ice cases with Gavin; Red Ice cases have everything you want – adrenalin, excitement, relentless pursuits, the subtle threat of danger _and_ you get to bust high wanted criminals. The only thing that makes you avoid Gavin’s Red Ice cases is, in fact, Gavin himself.

It’s not like you _don’t_ like Gavin; he _is_ your desk-partner so you’re kind of _forced_ to _like_ him ****and**** you know you can count on him, he **_**did**_** save your life after all, and you like discussing the latest gossip with him — nobody would ever think that he is such a gossip bitch — and not only did he message you multiple times during the last weeks to make sure you’re good, he also stayed in the hospital until you woke up.

It’s just … It’s Reed, he’s a dickhead most of the time, and is only relaxed after he got laid _or_ had at least 3.5 beers.

“The fuck’s going on”, you mutter under your breath. You’re _annoyed_ and by now a thick, gray thunder cloud has formed over your head. Frustrated you stare into the still half-filled cup in front of you; that’s a very you thing to do – looking for answers in ramen soup.

„Hello Detective. I am Connor, the Android sent by CyberLife.“

 _The android sent to replace me_ , you think but it’s not what you say. Instead, you look up from your $1 instant noodles, and freeze.

 _Oh god_ , you think. _Oh god, fuck. They made it_ ** _ **CUTE**_**.

For a moment, all you can do is stare at the Android in front of you; his innocent, deep eyes with just the right amount of honesty and the sparkle for fair justice within them, the faint freckles on his nose and the friendly, but still kind of forced smile on his lips — it looks a smile you’d give to Gavin sometimes. His LED blinks yellow for a second and you realize that that son of a bitch scanned you; you bite down a sneaky comment on how rude that is — he probably doesn’t know any better, you decide and you swallow the mean comment down before it can escape your mouth.

“Hi, Connor”, you manage to blur out instead. “You probably heard of me.” _As you took all my open cases, thank you very much_.

“Yes, I have. I am sorry to hear that you were fatally shot eleven weeks and three days ago. I am glad to see you recovered.” He smiles that forced smile again — seriously, where the hell did he pick that one up?! — and you raise your eyebrows at the weirdly accurate time span. “You are the Detective to have worked on the cases concerning Deviants before, correct?”

You take the still half-filled cup of instant noodles and throw them away, suddenly not hungry anymore.

“Correct”, you reply. “That was before I was shot. Seems like Hank and you took these cases.”

His LED flickers again, probably analyzing the darker tone hidden in your friendly voice and it seems like he wants to say something but Gavin interrupts him. “Seems like you have met your replacement, he?!”, he laughs in your face and slaps Connor hard on the back, _way_ harder than necessary, and the Android is forced to move a step forwards.

“Fuck off Reed”, you mutter. You are ****absolutely**** ** _ **not**_** in the mood for his games. He laughs and the sound rings in your ears in an almost obnoxious way.

“I must correct you, Detective Reed. I am not anyone’s replacement”, Connor says, his voice neutral and even, like the voice of an Android is supposed to be. “Sure, you plastic fucker”, Gavin snorts. “Just stay the fuck away from me, got it?” — “For _heaven’s_ sake, Gavin, leave it alone”, you sigh and shake your head. “It ain’t do anything to you personally. Take your issues out on someone else.”

Gavin throws a dark glare at you, one that says he’d wished you got shot with one more bullet, before releasing Connor from his hard grip and leaving the Break Room, cursing under his breath.

“Don’t mind him”, you say to Connor, shaking your head. “He likes to provoke.”

Connor tilts his head to the side. “Most humans are uncomfortable in the presence of Androids. Just as ****you**** , Detective.”

You cough. “Gavin isn’t uncomfortable, he’s just an asshole.”

You decide to ignore what he said about you — he’s _partly_ right —but ****only**** _partly_ , though you don’t feel like emphasizing this right now.

You yourself never had an Android, and you never saw why anyone would need one — that was until your parents had that car accident, your father died and your mother was left paralyzed and with only one arm. It was either giving up the job you love so much and not being able to afford literally anything, or getting an Android who would take care of her. You went for the latter option and it’s not like you regret it; the Android they recommend you at the CyberLife store is actually pretty sweet and sends you regular updates about your mother whenever she herself can’t find the strength to check on you. When you got shot and were in the hospital, it was the first time you felt _truly_ thankful having that Android around — an AP something model, you don’t know jack shit about it. Your mother named her Hope. Thinking about it hurts you _only_ a little.

You throw yourself back into reality and realize you have been just staring at Connor the past minute or so. You cough again, _now_ being uncomfortable, and try to keep the red flash on your cheeks hidden.

“Do you already have a desk, Connor?”, you ask, changing the topic _without even trying_ to be subtle. 

“Yes, I use the one in front of Lieutenant Anderson.”

You stare over to Hank who is watching you with a certain glow in his eyes. “Of course”, you say, looking away from Hank and back at Connor. “Look”, you start, and shrug, “I’m on desk-duty for the next few weeks and officially off the cases anyway. They’re all yours, so I’ll transfer you all I have, evidence and personal notes I made. Maybe you’re luckier than me.” You shrug and leave the Break Room, leaving that Android, Connor, behind.

Obviously you are not happy to give up your open cases — you _did_ work hard on them and all the evidence you collected wasn’t exactly easy to gather. Deviancy is a fresh and new thing and you were excited to be the Detective to figure it out. Then you got shot by some asshole because you grew too confident and thought you could take them on your own. You almost had to pay with your life for your cockiness, so maybe it’s better this way, you suppose.

Gavin doesn’t say anything to you when you sit down at your desk and stare blankly at the screen for a moment, not knowing what you’re supposed to do. Most paperwork is done and all your open cases have been reassigned. Seems like you’ll go back to investigate robberies.

You sigh deeply and send all the files and evidence you got saved on your terminal over to Hank before leaning back in your chair.

“Sorry for snapping at you earlier, Gav”, you say to Gavin who just rumbles something under his breath without looking at you. Without thinking about it, you open your emergency food and snack box, take the package of garlic bread and throw it at Gavin.

“Why don’t you have a piece of bread and maybe you’ll come down”, you laugh at him and now you at least get an annoyed grin. “Fuck you”, he says and you laugh.

“Hey”, he says then, “Tina told me about a series of robberies downtown. You should take those cases. It ain’t nothing too wild and it might get you back in shape.” He rips open the package.

You stare at him for a few seconds before realizing that you are _indeed_ back on robberies. Great!

You sigh deeply.

“Sure”, is all you say and Gavin is smart enough to stay quiet, silently munching his garlic bread.

The excitement you felt this morning about going back to work has made room for nothing but frustration.

It’s eating you from the inside out, turns your lungs around and for a second you can feel the holes the bullets left in your body.

This week is starting great.


	2. in waves (it comes and goes)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as i promised, a weekly update. hope i can keep that up lol. let me know what you think of it.

The next time you encounter Connor is at Chicken Feed, a place Hank showed you when you were fresh out of the Academy and new in Detroit, not knowing anyone or your way around.   
It’s been a couple of days since you last saw the two as you actively tried to avoid them and Fowler _had_ you solve the robbery case.

Easy, and also boring, bye. The last few days consisted only of watching and analyzing CCTV-material.   
They don’t see you until Hank moves to one of the tables and spots you out of the corner of his eyes. For a second he seems to be conflicted, not sure if it’s okay to join you but you smile over to them and make an inviting movement with your head.   
“Still got company?”, you ask when Hank settles in, your eyes wandering over to Connor. His eyes glare across the place, probably scanning his environment.   
Hank huffs in annoyance.   
“How’s your new case?”, he asks you. You scoff. “Boring. It’s just a couple of robberies, Hank. It’s nothing. Just some punks.” You shrug and glance over to Connor joining you.   
“Hello Detective”, he says to you and smiles again. “Hey Connor. Is Gavin leaving you alone?”, you ask and take a sip of your drink. For a second, Connor seems to struggle before he cracks a friendly smile. “It’s all right.” 

It’s not.  
You only nod. “I suppose you’re making progress with those Deviants?” – “Nah”, Hank scoffs and shakes his head. “Fucking robots”, he adds before furiously biting into his burger. “Getting _fucking_ nowhere”, he adds with a full mouth, and you rise your eyebrows in question.   
“The Deviants appear to not be connected to each other at all”, Connor adds, and if you’d know any better, you’d say that there’s frustration in his voice — not that he could feel frustration. He’s just a machine.   
“And **_**you**_**!”, Hank suddenly starts, “ _why_ ** _ **the hell**_** did you run after them! You could’ve been hit by a car! You could’ve died!” He vaguely gestures at Connor, anger forming his face into an ugly grimace.   
Connor seems startled, like a puppy you scold for jumping onto the couch.   
“I’m sorry, Lieutenant. Your orders didn’t compute to my instructions”, he says, as if he was confused about Hank’s anger. You raise your brows but stay quiet, focusing on finishing your fries. “What use are you to me dead?!”, Hank mutters angrily. For some reason, he seems seriously disturbed about whatever Connor did.  
You cough and grab your keys. “Excuse me boys, I have to re-watch yet another round of CCTV-recordings. I’ll see you later.”   
You wave them goodbye, still hearing Hank curse about Connor’s recklessness until you’re in your car. You don’t remember when you last saw Hank this … _upset_ _._ He usually doesn’t give a fuck about anything, not anymore.   
You don’t look back while you drive away and it remains silent inside your car during the entire ride to the precinct. Usually, you don’t like silence in the car, it is mostly too heavy to be carried by your shoulders, but now you find it weirdly comforting.   
The precinct is almost empty when you arrive. Most are probably on the road but at least Gavin can’t piss you off for no clear reason. Sometimes you wonder what his problem is and you just conclude that he’s got unresolved daddy issues he’s never worked on.   
Frustrated you sit down at your desk, ready to fulfill your destiny of analyzing CCTV-material.   
Nobody bothers you — you’re pretty sure it’s all just pity on their faces, the Android-Hunter, replaced by an Android.

G r e a t.

You wonder how things would’ve turned out if you hadn’t got shot. If you hadn’t grown too confident in yourself, if you just had waited for Gavin to arrive — but you didn’t.

You don’t pay much attention to the CCTV film, too frustrated to focus, until you notice something — a little mistake, so small it’s barely noticeable and if you hadn’t glare at your screen in anger, you wouldn’t have seen it.

You stop the recording and go back a couple of seconds, and start it again in slow-motion. You blink, re-watch the sequence, and sit up in your chair.   
The thief isn’t human. It’s an Android. It’s wearing a cap to hide the LED but the angle of the this CCTV-camera shows you a small glimpse of it, deep red, only detectable for a split second and _even_ in slow-motion it’s easily overseen.

“ _Fuck_ ” _,_ you mutter, stopping the recording while simultaneously reaching for your notes. You noticed the pattern in the robberies the first time you had a look at it — no human is harmed, they never steal food or drinks, just money, clothes and whatever else might be useful; a hammer, nails, tape, a flashlight, those kind of things.   
It hits you like a bullet train, strikes you like a lightning bolt. Your breath falters and your eyes widen. _Fuck_ , you think _, fuck, those are deviants_.  
Your glare flatters down to the map next to you, the little circles you drew around the robbed stores. Before, you couldn’t recognize a pattern in the locations, seemingly indiscriminate, and only _now_ you realize that _exactly that_ is the point — confusion. And it worked. All convenient stores that were robbed so far were very small, not all had CCTV, yet alone Android employees. It takes you a few minutes to find a convenient store without CCTV or Android employees that’s nearby the area you pinned down but eventually you find one.

You don’t think about calling Hank or Connor — not because you don’t want to, you’re just so caught up in having found a potential thief and the next crime scene, you simply forget. You also _forget_ that you’re still on desk-duty, or rather, you let that fact drop voluntarily under the table, and, besides, you _feel_ fine.

You grab your batch, your gun and the keys and run faster out of the precinct than anyone could notice, or stop you. The Chloe at the Reception desk says goodbye to you, and usually you say goodbye too — just because you’re not too fond of Androids that doesn’t mean you have to be rude to them, but you don’t bother this time — you’ll apologize to her later.   
You don’t even know what you’re expecting — the possibility to catch the Deviant right away is basically zero and it’s not like it’s gonna run straight into your arms or your gun. Also, you could still be wrong about the location. Deviants are unpredictable.

You arrive twenty minutes after having left the precinct.

The store is incredibly small but it’s got everything the thieves look for. The entrance isn’t exactly an eye catcher, there is no CCTV either, and the elderly lady at the desk doesn’t look like she’s able to defend herself.

You show her your batch. “Excuse me”, you say, “I’m the Detective assigned to a series of robberies and I have strong reason to believe that your store is targeted next. I would like to ask you some questions.”

The lady just stares at you, with an impression in her eyes that says that she didn’t understand shit. Panic simply spreads on her face when she stares at your batch — something fishy is going on here, but you’re not here for that.

“Hablas espanol?”, you try, brows furrowed, but the lady just shakes her head and raises her hands in a gesture that says that she doesn’t understand a heck you’re saying.

“Fine, whatever”, you mutter and put your batch away. You move away from the check-out desk and pretend to be checking some of the products. You sigh annoyance, ready to get back in your car and to keep an eye on the store from the outside but in that moment the door opens and you automatically duck down behind the self.

Hell be damned, you think, your breath shortening. It’s an Android. And not just any Android, it’s _the_ Android — you recognize the cap it was wearing during the other robbery.

You’re such a lucky son of a bitch.

The last time you were in a situation like this you got shot multiple times and almost died. The adrenalin in your veins feels like gasoline and leaves a foul taste in your mouth.

Your gun is heavy in your hands; as if it’s telling you that you’re not ready yet, that you _really_ shouldn’t be here.

The Android says something to the old lady in a language you can’t recognize or understand and when you see her open the cash desk and hastily take some dollar bills out of it, you realize — you made _a_ ** _ **big**_** ** _ **fucking**_** _mistake_.

But it’s too late to back down now.

You shoot up from behind the shelf.

“Hands in the air where I can see them!”, you yell — your voice is steady and fierce, and if the thief was a simple human, it might would’ve been intimidating. But the thief isn’t a simple human. It’s an Android.

But it does as you say, raises its hand up and turns away from the old lady.

It doesn’t say anything and it doesn’t move when you walk around the aisle towards it.

“Put the cash down and turn around, hands stay up in the air.”

The Android slowly puts the cash down on the desk and then, suddenly, snaps forward so fast you can’t react quickly enough.

 _Oh shit_ , you think, but it’s already too late at that point.

You’re being pushed backwards and you’re sent flying through the store and crash right into the aisle. The impact forces all air out of your lungs and you gasp in _pure_ pain; you’re _not_ fine, _definitely_ ** _ **not**_** fine, desk-duty _suddenly_ makes a ****lot**** of sense right now.

The shelf gives in to your weight, falls backwards and you groan. Something sharp is pressing into your back and your body feels too numb to move it. What a great Detective you are.

You find it difficult to breathe, not sure why, and everything is a blur. There’s a lot of noise, a lot of movement, and you’re right in the middle of it.

“Detective!”

That voice is familiar, you realize. Your mouth tastes like iron, you realize, too.

A strong hand grabs your arm and pulls you upwards with a jerk. Pain shoots through your body and you groan.

“Connor, after it!”, someone close to yells, and you recognize the voice as Hank’s. You blink the blurriness away as best as you can. “Fuck”, you curse, “ ** _ **FUCK**_**!” You suddenly regain control over your body and jump upwards, just to sink back on your knees — the pain weaving through all your muscles is too much.

“Leave it, kid”, Hank says and shakes his head. “Connor got it. What did you think you were doing?!”

You remain silent; you have nothing to say to defend yourself. What you did was incredibly stupid and you know it.

All you do is stare at Hank in silence and he just sighs. “You gotta explain this shit to Fowler”, he says. “Let’s have a med look at you first.”

You stay silent. The pain is everywhere and too much.

You really drank your dumb bitch juice this morning.

Fowler has been yelling at you for the past twelve minutes or so.

You feel like a roasted chicken on display in a damn Deli-shop. Everyone is trying to subtly stare into Fowler’s office — _trying_ is the keyword here because they are _all_ failing. Some are _not_ ** _ **even**_** trying to be subtle.

You feel awful. Both spiritually and physically. Your body shivers in pain and you can feel bullets that are no longer there; you can feel the bruises building up on your back and hips and you have a massive headache. And you know there is no one else to blame but yourself — it was this very behavior that got you almost killed in the first place. You know it just as everybody else does.

Fowler stopped yelling but you don’t realize until you lift up your gaze.

„So?“, he asks, his voice full with reproach, and you furrow your eyebrows. „So what?“, you ask because you didn’t listen to him and he knows it.

You kind of expect him to explode again but he surprises you — he sighs deeply and rubs his nose bridge in agony, as if he was the one who was pushed through two and a half shelves in a convenient store.

„Listen, kid“, he addresses you, and by god, you hate it when they call you kid, „I know you want back on these cases...“ - „So assign me back“, you say and shrug. „I am a good cop, Captain. You know it. I had nobody to help me with that Deviant crap when it turned up. I had to gather all that evidence myself and now you’re just ripping it out of my hands? It’s not fair.“

You don’t want to sound like a pouting child but you _are_ bitter if you’re being honest. It was hard work and you had to give it all away.

„You’re on desk-duty“, Fowler reminds you, his eyebrows held high, his eyes small.

„I would be with Hank and an Android. If there’s action, they could handle it.“ You sigh deeply. The pain in your body mixes with your frustration and discontent, making your shoulders heavy.

Fowler stares at you with a look in his eyes you’ve never seen before.

„You’re dismissed“, he says then, his voice neutral. The statement comes so suddenly that you stare at him dumbfounded for a second before your anger takes over. You stand up with enough force to shake the chair and storm out of his office.

 _It’s not fair_ , you think and you swallow ugly jealousy and bitterness down your throat like poison.

The door behind you closes loudly and everybody who has been lurking and spying is suddenly _very_ busy. _Fucking hypocrites_ , you think and you scoff angrily.

Your fury is sitting above your head like a thunderbolt, charged and ready to deploy. You stomp into the Break Room; you just can’t bear to sit in the bullpen with your back open, hearing the whispers and noticing the pitiful looks on your colleagues’ faces and besides, your desk is fucking empty anyway, even the robbery case is being taken away, and if they dare to assign you to a _new_ robbery you _WILL_ lose your mind.

Tina and Gavin are here and you don’t mind — they’re better company than some others and they being in the Break Room means that they at least didn’t try to get a piece of whatever happened between Fowler and you, unlike almost everybody else. 

„Hey you“, Tina greets you. Her smile is faint but real. „How you doing?“ - „Ugh“, you sigh frustrated and make a dismissing movement with your hands.

„Guess you were lucky Hank and Terminator were around“, Gavin says — as a statement, it’s plain and pretty straightforward. Confused, you blink at him from the corner of your eyes but there is no ugly grin plastered on his features, no sparkle in his eyes or in his voice. For some reason unclear to you, he isn’t talking shit.

„You could’ve ended up in the hospital again“, Tina agrees and she nods to underline the important of her words, _as if_ that wasn’t already clear to you.

„Thanks for the memo“, you mutter and take a donut from the open box on the counter. Tina and Gavin exchange a look but they remain quiet — they know better than to argue with you when you are in a foul mood.

„But hey, what a coincidence that those robberies are linked to Deviants“, Tina speaks up again, trying to change the topic and you let her. „As if you were destined to work on those“, she smiles at you and you half-ass a smile back at her. She’s just trying to be friendly but you feel like she just punched you straight on the nose.

„Yeah“, you mutter. Gavin scratches the back of his head, clearly uncomfortable with the vibe in the room. „Weird thing, haha“, he fake laughs and it makes you cringe so much you almost choke on your donut. It’s their pity for you making the situation awkward; you know that they just want to be nice and, sure, some part of you really appreciates that they’re at least trying but you can’t shake the feeling that you kind of don’t belong here right now.

Ever since your return to the precinct everyone has been either avoiding you or wrapping you in a thick blanket to protect you from the big, evil, dark outside world. And while you certainly need a lot of things, protection isn’t one of them.

Tina throws a dark glare at Gavin and then there’s silence layering down between you three, thick like a wet blanket, suffocating as such, and you cough.

„All right. See you later“, you mutter, not really sure what to say to them and you hastily leave the Break Room, hoping to ditch your discomfort there but it follows you around like a shadow, crawling under your skin like a nasty bug and it makes your face burn both with anger and discomfort, maybe even embarrassment.

Defeated you sit down at your desk and stare at the empty terminal, trying to avoid eye contact with everybody. For now, you just want to be left alone so you can wallow in your own self-pity, disappointment and embarrassment. You don’t want anybody to talk to you nor do you want to talk to anybody.

„Hello Detective. How are you feeling?“

 _For Fuck’s sake_. You lift your gaze to stare at Connor, your mouth already opened, armed and aimed, but the look in his eyes — _this_ look, his dark eyes filled with something that reminds you of concern, a golden glimmer that looks like real compassion, maybe sympathy, and it startles you so much that you swallow your mean words down like glass.

It’s not his fault, you tell yourself. It’s not _his_ fault.

„I’m.... okay“, you murmur, not quite sure what else to say.

„Have you checked in with your doctor? My analysis says you suffered multiple contusions due to the fall.“

You can’t help yourself but staring at him in deadpan silence for a second and sigh deeply. How did you end up like this? What did you ever do to deserve this? You can’t even be mad at him, at those big, dark puppy eyes and that goofy look on his face. It’s so unfair that they made him so cute.

„I’m fine“, you repeat. „It’s just bruises. Don’t mind it. And don’t scan me again.“ You raise your index finger up and stare at him with fierce eyes. „It’s rude.“

Connor tilts his head, his LED blinking yellow for a second.

„Noted“, he says and nods slightly.

From the corner of your eyes you can see Hank in Fowler’s office. You’re reminded of your bitterness and slightly shake your head. „So“, you say to change the topic and to distract yourself, looking upwards to Connor who hasn’t moved one bit, „did you catch the Deviant?“

Connor’s LED blinks yellow again and his face moves **—** it _moves_ , you realize, into _frustration_. _You and me both, Connor_ , you think. _You and me both._

„No. I lost trail of it in the crowd.“

You give him a sympathetic smile. „Don’t worry. He’ll show up“, you tell him. He _did_ help you in the convenient store. The least you can do is be nice, it’s not like he personally ripped the Deviant cases out of your hands.

„Hey, you two“, Hank interrupts, his voice swinging heavy with a certain annoyance. The question mark on your face as why he’s addressing you as well is as big as Connor’s puppy eyes.

„Let’s go. There’s another report of a fucking Deviant.“ Hank makes an impatient movement with his hand and Connor is already by his side before Hank could even finish his damn sentence. You have the big urge to roll your eyes but stop yourself last second — be nice, you remind yourself, not his fault, you tell yourself again.

„Good luck“, you tell them, leaning back in your chair.

Hank now looks at you, his face technically unmoved, _but_ in his eyes you find a sparkle that promises _more_.

„What are you waiting for? You’re coming with us“, he says, his voice plastered with confusion, as if you hadn’t heard the news.

„Uh?“, you say, _very_ gracefully, and stare at Hank as if you were Misses Dumbstruck in person.

„Why do you think Fowler called me in? Got two problems to babysit now“, he grumbles, the last part more to himself than to you, but you can still see right through him and see the little smile at the corner of his mouth.

Your gaze flatters to Fowler who’s on the phone, too busy talking to notice you.

That son of a bitch, you think. For once, he did something _nice_.

You look up to Hank and to Connor and you don’t think twice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> listen., i dont know how the police works and at this point i am too afraid to ask.


	3. a bullet if you run away (another lost one)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lets go lesbians lets go

You kind of regret coming; this place is full of shit.

Literally.

You almost puked when you entered that ruin full of pigeons. Not really what you signed up for but you’re also not really in the position to complain. You should take what you can get, even if it’s a train wreck of an apartment filled with pigeons and a load of crap — literally.

„Jesus fucking Christ“, you exclaim, pulling your sleeve over your nose. There is no way in hell that there is a human living here; too heavy is the smell of foul, stale air and bird shit, to moldy are the walls, too splintered is the floor under your feet, the wood aching and groaning with every step you take — you fear you might fall right through.

Hank and Connor already made their way through the corridor to the vast living space but you’re caught up in one of the rooms and all the weird markings scattered over the old wallpapers. What kind of incomprehensible crap is this? You frown deeply. _Must be some kind of code_ , you think, and you scratch the backside of your head. You’ve seen various coding-systems in your career but mazes are new — they either mean everything or nothing at all. 

From the living area, you can hear Hank’s and Connor’s voices but they’re only at the backside of your mind, far away from reaching you. Too deep are your thoughts about these mazes — they’re captivating in a way, totally even and smooth, not a single mistake — a trait that’s so Android, absolutely perfect, so flawless that it’s almost not real.

You rip your stare off these mazes and make your way to the living area where even more pigeons swarm at your feet. In all these years, you’ve never seen anything like this and given the amount of bird food on the stale kitchen counter, the suspect seemed to be feeding these fuckers.

„You found somethin’?“, Hank asks and nods towards you. You shake your head and swallow your disgust; the smell is stronger here in the living area and Hank seems to be as unhappy as you are.

„What about you?“, you asks, eyeing the pigeons around your feet carefully. „Connor found a fake driver’s license“, Hank scoffs and rolls his eyes.

„Mhm“, you mutter and frown. Not entirely useless, you think, with a fake license you could maybe track the suspect somehow.

Hank doesn’t seem like he wants to bother investigating anything and you can’t blame him, not really; there’s pigeon shit **_**everywhere**_** and you’d basically need the ability to fly to avoid stepping into it. You _really_ loved your job sometimes.

But, in any case, this was _still_ better than desk-duty, _still_ better than rotting away in your chair and being pierced through by your colleague’s pitiful eyes. _Anything_ was better than that.

„I found an LED“, Connor says, joining from the bathroom. „There is also the sign rA9 written on the wall, 2471 times“, he adds and you frown again.

You’ve seen that symbol, rA9, during your investigations so many times but could never make sense of it. There is nothing about it in the archives and the internet didn’t help you either. The Deviants seem to be obsessed with it, as if it were some kind of... belief, something to grasp onto in despair, something to give _hope_.

You shake your head and cross your arms in front of your chest, letting that train of thoughts trail off.

„All these mazes“, you say, looking around the apartment, „they’re _so_ neat. No human could draw this accurately.“ You look towards the dirty window and the stained sunlight falling into the flat.

„It’s a Deviant.“ - „No shit“, Hank mutters, „no one can live with all these fucking pigeons.“ He shakes his head in disbelief. „This place fucking stinks“, he adds and you can hear the disgust in his words.

You’re about to agree with him, ready to leave this place, and you turn to Connor — and freeze in your movements, your jaw dropping so wide open you could hide an entire piano in your mouth.

„Hank“, you suddenly say, your voice colored in a mix of absurdness, surprise and shock, bumping your elbows in his side, „what the.... what the _fuck_ is he doing?“

You stare at Connor in disbelief as he sinks his fingers into the dirty, **_**dirty**_** , _filthy_ sink and then into his ****mouth****. You’re going to vomit, that’s for sure. Connor really takes the phrase „forbidden snacc“ to an entirely different level.

Hank blinks and then he laughs. „You’ll never get used to that, fucking freaks me out every time“, he tells you but it’s not the explanation you have hoped for. Is there an explanation for this?! You don’t think so.

As Connor walks back into the living room you find it difficult to take your eyes off of him. That picture of him sticking his fingers into .... the dirt?, and then into his mouth is forever burnt into your brain, thanks _very_ much.

Connor looks like he just did the most normal thing in the world. Unbothered by your intense stare, he kneels down in front of the bird cage at the ground which you didn’t pay attention to when you entered, just deeming it part of the broken down furniture.

But suddenly something on Connor’s face snaps and the soft expression on that stupid cute face is harshened, moved into determination — he found something, you realize.

Your gaze follows him through the swarmed room. He looks up towards the broken ceiling — and you suddenly feel like an idiot, not having thought about that before — but before you can finish your thought process, someone jumps down from there, simultaneously pushing Connor to the floor and stirring up about five hundred pigeons. „Fuck!“, you exclaim, raising your arms up to protect your face.

„Fucking pigeons!“, you can hear Hank, too, and in the next second, the Deviant goes running — your first instinct is to run after it, you’re _already almost_ on the way but Hank’s hand pushes you back and he vaguely gestures at Connor. „What are you doing?! Chase it!“

You blink and Connor is gone, so fast that you couldn’t even see him move and the only thing you saw of the Deviant was a dark, blurred shadow.

„You stay here“, Hank tells you and there certainly isn’t any room for discussion in his tone. He goes after them — slower, _way_ slower, _but_ he’s on the way — and you stay left behind in a broken apartment and about a million agitated pigeons.

It all happened so fast, you’re still processing half of it. You know there’s nothing you can do — you are on _very_ thin ice and every step you take is being watched. If all, you can be glad you can be here in the first place, and, defeated, you let your gaze flatter around the apartment;

You’re not really worried about the Deviant and the chase — somehow, you’re sure that Connor will take care of it but you also have the feeling that there is something with this apartment — it’s those damn mazes, you feel like a lab rat trapped in one of them.

The premonition that there _is_ something here doesn’t let you go and it sits deep within your gut, tumbling around like a parasite, driving you slowly insane. You know it won’t leave you alone until you’ve found it.

Connor didn’t have time to scan all of the apartment — you know he only scanned the bathroom and some part of the living area.

You move away from the pigeons towards the worn down couch, noticing the poster at the wall — and the corner that’s hanging down, as if the poster was taken down _one_ too many times. Except for the poster and the mazes, the walls are blank and that’s just weird enough for you to check it out.

„Mhm“, you hum and without hesitating, you rip the poster off the wall. At first, you’re disappointed to see only a gaping hole in the wall _until_ you see the notebook.

 _Bingo_!, you think and take it but here’s the pride before the fall — 

It’s indecipherable. At least for now it is, yet another kind of code, yet another thing you’re incapable of understanding. You let out a frustrated sign — Deviants are going to drive you insane, _you know it._

You take the notebook, manage to staff it into your pocket and then move on. One last gaze around the apartment, the infinite amount of pigeons down to your feet, and you decide to leave. At least you have _something_ and when — not if — Connor catches that Deviant, you have an ace up your sleeve to use in the interrogation.

Spending time in that godforsaken apartment made you forget _how_ good fresh air feels. The things you take for granted, eh?

The sky is bright blue and the sun is shining, blinding even for the first couple seconds after stepping out the emergency exit.

You have trouble figuring out where Hank and Connor went — too much time wasted in the apartment. They didn’t have too much choices and you make your way over the roof, eventually arriving at the greenhouses. There is chaos everywhere and you know, yep, they’ve been here.

Some Androids are fixing the damage — knocked over shelves, damaged plants, some broken water hoses — and you turn to the next human supervisor you can find.

The guy, wearing smudged pants and a green baseball cap, points towards the edge of the building. He looks annoyed and fascinated at the same time and you wonder for a second how that even works.

„If you’re fast, you can catch up“, he tells you. „The Androids jumped on the train. The other police offer went through the big greenhouse“, he points, „they must be on the roof of building four, we got the cams on them. Take the stairs and you could make it.“

You barely have the time to say thanks. All you do is nod and then you _fucking_ leg it.

Your still damaged body can hardly keep up, your lungs burn and you can feel almost every damn muscle in your body; your legs are heavy and they’re slowing you down, making you sluggish. Definitely time to hit that gym again.

 _Crap_ , you think, every breath you take feels like swallowing fire and you _somewhat_ regret not being able to sit on your ass at your desk — and at the same moment you want to slap yourself for thinking that. You belong _here_ , on _these_ cases, and you know it. You didn’t play with fire just to let the flame go out now.

Ascending the stairwell takes a toll on you and you make your way out of the dark building breathing heavily, your throat sour and itchy; your entire body feels like a forest fire.

You burst through the door _just in the right second_ and for a moment, the scene in front of you plays in slow motion;

The Deviant pushing Hank off the roof in one smooth, simple movement, Connor bursting through the cornfield and hesitating, the Deviant making his way to the edge of the roof.

You act instinctively; in the corner of your eye, you see Connor reaching out for Hank and in that moment you slip forwards, past the two, your gun up and pointed, towards the Deviant and you’re about to pull the trigger but then, in that moment, the run takes its price and your leg gives in to your weight — you sink down on one knee, your gun heavy in your hand, and you think, you think, _not again_ , not _another_ Deviant being able to make a run for it _because of you_ but all you see is how he jumps off the roof, victory displayed on his face as he disappears into the city jungle.

You lost him. Your breath is heavy and you feel endlessly tired. You lost him.

Your eyes fall shut.

Then, you feel a heavy hand on your shoulder, Hank’s, and you know it’s over.

The Deviant is gone and _you lost him_.

After that chase and returning unsuccessfully to the precinct, you clocked off and drove home. The immense disappointed in yourself was quite heavy in your stomach and all you did to get rid off it was to eat about an entire ice cream bucket, sitting in pyjamas on your couch wrapped in a thick blanket and watching some third-class soap opera you know Tina likes.

You’re incredibly bored. Watching trash tv that only requires about 10% brain battery is usually a good way to waste time; you have background noises you can half-ass focus on and still be on your phone at the same time without having to worry about missing anything.

Now you’re just scrolling through your social media timeline, circling between the same three damn apps, as suddenly the display blackens for a moment; it’s a number you don’t know and you hesitate; you just don’t trust like that.

For a second, all you do is just stare at your screen before you pick up — are you an adult or what?

„Hello?“, you ask in confusion. Except for your mom, no one really calls you because you usually don’t bother to pick up — hating phone calls with the power of a thousand suns and such.

„Hello Detective, it’s me, Connor.“

Irritated, you blink at your phone for a short moment; _how_ did he get your number? _Why_ does he have a phone?

„Uhm. Hi?“, you ask, a bit dumbfounded and _certainly_ unsure what to say.

„I require your help, Detective. There has been a report of a murder but I am unable to contact Lieutenant Anderson.“

You sigh. Knowing Hank, after today’s events he probably got very drunk. But at least your boring, _boring_ ,evening could turn into something _way more_ entertaining now.

„All right. You have his address? We’ll meet there. Wait for me outside.“

Without waiting for his answer, you hang up and get dressed while calling a cab — it’s raining cats and dogs outside and your legs feel too heavy still to safely drive your car.

The cab drive is quiet. You turn off the radio and just look outside the window; the rain is hitting the glass quietly and the drops slowly slide down and vanish into the dark.

For some reason, ever since the incident, you enjoy the quiet car rides — before, if there was no sound, you’d always be alone with your thoughts and that’s just really not a good combination. But now, you can hear the gunshots during songs, you can feel them hit your body and you can feel the weakness crawling back into your muscles while the world grows dark around you — you _know_ that you probably should work on that. But not now. That’s a problem for future-you. It already required a lot of lying to get your doctor to release from sick-leave. Any wrong step, any wrong word and you know you’re done. And you just don’t have time for that crap.

Connor is patiently standing outside the front door when you arrive. He stands so still you could mistake him for a statue. Kind of creepy, you gotta say.

You get out of the cab and take huge steps to make it to the roof relatively dry.

„How long have you been waiting here?“, you ask instead of greeting him and Connor turns to look at you. „12 minutes and 32 seconds“, he answers and you raise your brows. „All right, you don’t need to be so accurate“, you tell him, ringing the bell, „just say ten minutes or something.“

Connor tilts his head slightly, his LED blinking as he processes that new information. „Noted, Detective.“

You roll your eyes and ring the bell again. „You called him?“, you ask, frowning, and Connor nods. „I called Lieutenant Anderson 42 min.... forty minutes ago.“ He corrects himself mid-sentence and you throw a small smile at him in approval. „See, that sounds already much better“, you tell him. „Did you check the windows?“

Connor nods and you hum. „Let’s check the backdoor“, you say and wave him with you. He follows you like a lost puppy as you make your way around the house and throw a glare into the kitchen as you walk past the window; and see Hank passed out on the floor.

„Oh, what the fuck?!“, you yelp, grabbing Connor’s arm involuntary and he turns around to look into the kitchen. His LED blinks for a second.

„Step back, Detective“, he tells you while gently loosening your grip from his arm. You do as he says but actually you have no idea what he wants to do.

Before you can stop him, his elbow shatters the window to tiny little pieces and in one single, smooth movement he jumps into the room through the small gap. He lands somewhat elegantly on the ground and you can’t really do anything but stare at him for moment.

The gap is way too small for you to slip in without hurting yourself so you stay behind in the rain.

„Connor, watch out!“, you call out as Sumo, obviously disturbed by someone breaking into his home, approaches with a loud bark.

Connor raises his hands up in a defensive matter and laughs nervously. „Hey there.... Sumo. I am here to save your owner, I’m your friend“, he tells the massive dog and you’re wondering how he knows Sumo’s name. Did Hank tell him?

You watch as Sumo stops in his tracks and then backs off peacefully. Connor is visibly relieved and you can’t blame him; Sumo is _massive_.

A sharp wind flushes through the backyard and suddenly you realize how freaking cold it is; and you’re still in the rain.

„Hey, Connor“, you say „open the door for me, will you?“

Connor nods to you as he stands up and quickly makes his way through the living room to open the front door for you before he sprints back to Hank who’s still passed out on the kitchen floor.

At least Hank’s house is warm, you think and you follow Connor into the kitchen; immediately seeing the gun next to Hank. You’re taken aback and you frown, more disturbed than you want to admit. For a second, you’re not sure what to say; whether to say anything at all. Then, you choose to be quiet — Connor must’ve seen the gun, too when he scanned Hank.

You watch Connor sink down to his knee and you don’t stop him from whatever he intends to do.

Instead, you let your gaze wonder around the kitchen; the empty beer and whiskey bottles, the endless take-out garbage and the dishes stacking up in the kitchen before your eyes trail back to the gun. You knew before that Hank has his issues but you didn’t actually know how deep they root. Are you any better, though? Probably not.

„Lieutenant?“, Connor asks and his voice is so _fucking_ soft, you die a little inside. He gives Hank a _light_... slap on his cheeks. Yeah, that won’t cut it, Hank probably tried to drink himself into oblivion.

Hank stutters something and his eyes flatter open for a second but he doesn’t wake up from his coma.

„Wake up, Lieutenant“, Connor says, much fiercer now, and you can see the small wrinkles on his forehead. Suddenly, he takes a swing and smacks Hank _hard_ in the face and oh, you have to suppress your laughter. Hank yelps upwards.

„It’s me, Connor!“ - „How did you get in here?“, he asks, his eyes glassy and filled with confusion and, quite frankly, more liquor than he can handle.

„I’m going to sober you up for your own safety. It might be unpleasant“, Connor informs Hank but you doubt that Hank is listening at all and if he is, he probably doesn’t comprehend a single word leaving Connor’s mouth.

Connor wraps Hank’s arm around his shoulder and pushes him up. Hank’s eyes trail loosely through his kitchen, somehow missing the broken window, but he finally spots you.

„Ya helpin’ him?!“, he slurrs, sounding stunned and betrayed at the same time; as if Connor and you were in cahoots against _him_ , personally.

You can’t help grin and shrug. „Looks like it“, you simply reply.

„Oh, get the fuck outta my house“, Hank says, clearly to the both of you, and he makes a loose movement with his head.

„I’m sorry Lieutenant but I need you.“ Connor shakes his head. He seemingly cares only a little about Hank’s drunk hostility.

„Thank you in advance for you cooperation“, Connor adds and this time you _have to_ laugh.

„Hey man, get the **_**fuck**_** _outta_ here“, Hank yelps out, his body shifting backwards as if he’s going to fall back but Connor’s grip is strong and fierce; he is not going to let go. He pushes Hank upwards again and the sound that escapes Hank is enough to nearly makes you choke on your own laughter. This is _so much_ better than trash tv. You probably haven’t been this entertained since.... ah, you actually can’t quite remember — you’re not really worried about Hank, you’re sure he’ll be fine, this certainly isn’t the first time he ended up like this.

Connor balances Hank through the hallway. „Sumo! Attack“, Hank calls but Sumo just barks quietly and watches, probably with the same amusement as you do. He sits quietly in the living room, his eyes on Connor and his owner but he doesn’t look suspicious at all.

„Fuck, I think I’m gonna be sick“, Hank mutters, his face pressing into the cold wall. Connor is _very_ unimpressed as he opens the door and and helps, no, _forces_ Hank inside.

„Leave me alone you fucking asshole... I’m not going anywhere.“ Hank’s fingers hold desperately on to the door frame, trying _so_ hard to work against Connor who has zero struggle to pull Hank inside. Curios, you follow them. So far, it has been quite entertaining and you sure as hell don’t want to miss this show.

„What the hell are you doing?“ Hank sounds defeated and his butt plumps down in the bath tube edge. „I don’t wanna bath, thank you“, he adds then, as if he’d only now realized where he is, standing up again but Connor pushes him back _into_ the tube. You remember the compassion he had showed you before and now, all of that is gone and has been replaced with coldness.

„Sorry Lieutenant. It’s for your own good.“ He leans down and turns the cold water on, causing Hank to scream like a little girl. Oh, you didn’t know that Connor could be _so_ cruel! Nevertheless, this is _so_ definitely worth it.

„Turn it off! Turn it off!“, Hank yells and you laugh. This is so much more delightful than you thought it would be.

Hank stares up at Connor for a couple seconds, sobered up quite fast, and confusion plasters all over his face.

„What the fuck are you doing here?“, he asks as if this was the first time he’s seen Connor this evening and all what just happened before has been eradicated from his mind.

„A homicide was reported 43 minutes ago. I couldn’t find you at Jimmy’s bar so I came to see if you were at home.“

Hank stares up to Connor in dumbfounded silence. „Jesus“, he says then, heavily, and he moves upwards. „I must be the only cop in the world who gets assaulted in his own home by his own fuckin’ android. Why can’t you just leave me alone?“, Hank sighs and your eyes grow smaller in disagreement, ready to step in and defend Connor where he himself can’t but Connor just frowns slightly.

„To my regret, I cannot investigate the Deviant cases on my own and need to be subordinate to you, Lieutenant.“

Your jaw drops — Connor doesn’t seem to need your help. His statement is plain and simple, his voice very neutral, and wow, your wig. And you’re not even Hank.

„Beat it you asshole“, Hank replies and he finally manages to stand just to almost slip and fall — Connor prevents the latter with steady hands. Hank sinks back down on the edge of the bath tube, breathing in defeat. Connor is silent for a second before he turns away.

„I understand. It probably wasn’t interesting anyway. A man found dead in a sex club downtown? Guess they will have to solve the case without us.“

You believe you see the smallest hint of a grin on Connor’s face when he looks at you. _Fuck_ , he is cute. You bite the inside of your mouth.

Hank looks up at Connor in deadpan silence for a couple heartbeats before he shrugs slightly.

„Wouldn’t do me any harm to get some air“, he says and you have to chuckle. **_**Sure**_**. „There’s some clothes in the bedroom there.“

Connor nods. „I’ll go get them.“ He turns around and walks past you into the dark bedroom to get the clothes.

You still lean against the door frame, arms crossed in front of your chest, a slight frown on your face; you’re not even trying to hide the judgemental look on your face and just glare at Hank and he stares back. „What?“, he snaps and you shrug. „He kind of saved you“, you just say and Hank scoffs.

„What do you want to wear?“, you can hear Connor call from the bedroom. „Whatever“, Hank replies and you believe he says that both to Connor and you. There is nothing more to say between you two so you remain silent. 

Suddenly, Hank’s face swells up and your eyes widen, having figured out what’s going to happen right away. You turn around in the same moment as Hank barely makes it to the toilet and throws up. Ugh. You have a ... thing about people throwing up and you can already feel your tummy becoming uncomfortable. Without thinking further, you move away from the bathroom and decide to wait in the living room instead.

Quietly, you can hear Connor and Hank talk for a short moment before Connor closes the door behind him and walks away from the bathroom and towards you.

You watch him silently for a moment but your eyes are fierce.

„You know, you don’t have to let them talk to you like that“, you tell him.

Connor doesn’t look at you and instead scans Hank’s apartment. „I do not see what you mean“, he says while looking into the kitchen and eyeing the gun on the floor — one of the first things you saw but you decided to remain quiet about it; everybody has a different poison. It’s none of your business.

„I mean that you don’t have to endure it if they’re being...“ you stop, searching for the right word; you want to say hostile but maybe that’s too strong, „... _mean_ “, you say instead but it’s not really the thing you wanted to say.

Connor seems to shrug. „I am an Android, I do not have any feelings towards hostile behaviour“, he replies and you hum deeply, thinking back about the chase earlier this day and how _Connor_ was the one who moved to save Hank.

„Really? So why did you save Hank today while in pursuit? Instead of catching that Deviant? Hank would’ve made it, I could’ve helped him“, you say and Connor stops in his tracks. He seems to think, you realize, and for once you’re eager to hear his reply.

„I do not know“, he tells you and he while sounds uncertain, he _also_ sounds **_**truthful**_**. „I just felt saving his life was more important. Lieutenant Anderson is vital to my success.“

You nod. Sure. That’s what he’s programmed to say. You decide to dig deeper — there _must_ be more to him, something that goes beyond the flatly programmed code, so you decide to go where it _hurts_.

„You don’t feel frustrated by the lack of evidence and success?“, you ask, your voice as neutral as you can manage it, and Connor seems to think again. „I find it... _unpleasant_ “, he answers while scanning through Hank’s books.

You nod again; not what you had hoped for but it’s actually more than you expected. Maybe a different approach will bring you further. You decide to switch the topic.

„What do you think about these Deviants? More and more show up.“

Connor frowns this time and you have troubles hiding your triumphant smile — that’s a bigger reaction than before.

„They are dangerous. They must be stopped. I know I will succeed.“ He sounds determined and you gotta give him that. „I’m sure you will. How do you like the police work?“

Now Connor turns around to look at you, finally having gathered enough of Hank’s personal information.

„It is... entertaining. I like it.“ His eyes sparkle, that sparkle that you saw a couple of times now and you kind of like, and you smile lightly. „You’re the first Android cop. Must be a lot of pressure, eh?“

„I just want to succeed and stop the Deviants“, he answers but that’s neither a yes nor a no. It’s good enough for you, though.

„What will happen if you don’t?“ - „I will be deactivated and my parts will be analyzed to find out why I failed“, he explains so simply, so neutrally, you can’t help but frown. „That’s cruel“, you state. „It doesn’t have to be _your_ fault“, you add. Connor stands still and you’d wish you could say he shrugged.

„I would be replaced by a newer, better model to continue the investigation.“

There isn’t anything in his voice that would suggest feelings, nothing like remorse or fear. Suddenly, you feel like you’ve been slapped in the face, suddenly remembering that he’s an Android, not a human.

What if there’s not enough time? What if he’s damaged during the investigations? What if he can’t find the reason for Deviancy? He’ll just be torn away and replaced by something _better_?

Your thoughts make you scoff. Fucking CyberLife cunts.

„I see“, you mutter and you look away from him. You still think it’s pretty harsh but you refrain yourself from asking more questions. It’s enough for tonight. Instead, you watch him scan through Hank’s stuff, probably gathering more information to work more efficiently with him.

Your thought process is interrupted by Hank finally coming out of the bathroom, looking way more alive than before, and he looks at both of you and makes an inviting movement with his head towards the door. „Let’s go.“

He probably doesn’t know about the smashed window in his kitchen and you’re sure as hell not gonna tell him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know what yall think you can btw hmu on the tungle, my blog name is varyen

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for the read! Let me know what you thought of it!


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